Babysitting a Billionaire #1 - Losing Control(15)

"I've never seen her drunk," Dave murmured. "It's kind of scary."

"Yeah."

"And she's going to break a leg in those heels if she's not careful."

She did appear a little precariously balanced. But maybe a leg in plaster would keep her out of trouble for a while. And he'd have the perfect excuse to take care of her.

She stretched up and whispered something in Steve's ear. He shook his head, and Kim frowned. Every single one of Jake's muscles locked up tight. Beside him, Dave chuckled, and he turned to glare.

"Hey, don't take it out on me." Dave threw up a hand. "It's not my fault your love life is a total load of crap."

That was true, he supposed. Jake forced his muscles to relax.

"But all the same," Dave continued, "I've got to say that it's been amusing as hell to watch." He grinned. "How the mighty have fallen."

"Fuck off."

"Why don't you tell her how you feel?"

"Because she'd run a mile in the opposite direction."

"Yup, you're screwed.

Jake cast a glance in Kim's direction. She was definitely drunk. He sighed. "No, not tonight, I'm not."

Dave laughed.

Yeah, Jake was a real funny guy. He'd had enough. The party was over and not only for him. He placed his bottle carefully on the table and rose to his feet. "I'd better take her home."

"Good luck."

Kim glanced in their direction, and a smile flashed across her face. Mascara smudged under her eyes, her crimson lipstick was long gone, yet she was still utterly gorgeous. A pain tightened around his heart; the problem was that he wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. He didn't know how to deal.

She waggled her fingers in his direction and started to wend her unsteady way across the small, almost-empty dance floor.

She met him halfway and stared up at him through panda eyes. "Jakey, will you dance with me?"

Jakey? No one had ever called him "Jakey" in his life before.

"Pleeeease. I've asked everyone else, and they're all too scared of you. Even Mitch and he's the one leaving." She frowned. "He said you'd likely hunt him down."

"He's right."

She ignored his comment. "I told them you're nice, but no one believes me. I think you're nice, Jakey." She blinked at him. "So will you dance with me? Pretty please." She slid her hands over his shoulders and stared into his face. "Why did you have to spoil it all?"

He wasn't sure what she was talking about, so best keep his answers vague. "Did I?"

"You did. You scratched my itch. It was wonderful, mind-blowing. You are definitely well endowed, and you knew exactly what to do with it."

"Thank you." Christ, she was going to regret this conversation in the morning-when he reminded her of it. The thought gave him a glimmer of satisfaction.

"I thought it could work, that we could be fuck buddies, and it would be lovely. But you had to go and ruin everything."

"I did?"

"You said the M-word, and now it's all broken." She heaved a huge sigh. "You're supposed to be dancing." She tightened her grip on his shoulders and tugged him closer.

How could he resist such an offer? "Five minutes and we're out of here."

Five minutes of purgatory.

He tried to hold his body away from hers, but after the first thirty seconds, he figured what the hell? He slipped his hands around her waist and pulled her against him. Kim rested her head on his chest and swayed slowly to the music, which was impressive considering it was a fast rock track. Closing his eyes, he reveled in the feel of her long, slender body pressed against his. It was torture. Blood throbbed in his dick, and his balls ached.




 

 

Finally, he could take no more. He pulled away. She tried to hold on for a second but then gave in.

"Come on, I'll take you home."

"Are you going to look after me? Keep me safe."

"Don't I always?"

Her lips curved up in a sweet smile, and she nodded solemnly. "You won't take advantage of my inebriated state."

It wasn't a question. "You know I won't."

"I told you, you were nice."

"Yeah, so you did."

He was so not getting screwed tonight.

Chapter Nine

Kim rolled her head carefully to the side and blinked open her eyes. A glass of water and a bottle of what she hoped was painkillers sat on the bedside table like a gleaming beacon of hope in the dim light.

She reached out a trembling hand and grabbed the bottle. It took her a few fumbles to unscrew the lid. She popped two pills in her mouth, swallowed them without bothering with the water, and collapsed back on the bed.

Well, her plan had worked.

At least she presumed it had worked.

Jake had once told her that men who took advantage of drunken women were as bad as rapists. She'd known he wouldn't touch her. At least she'd thought she'd known. But then again, she was in bed in Jake's spare room and had no memory of how she got there. She remembered begging Jake to dance with her, and then everything blurred.

She braced herself and took a quick peek under the duvet. She wore what appeared to be one of Jake's shirts. Black linen, and from the waft of spicy exotic aftershave, she guessed it must be the shirt he'd worn last night. It was rucked up, and she could see the edge of her black lace thong. If she'd had sex, she wouldn't still be wearing that, would she?

She waited ten minutes until the painkillers kicked in. Outside her room, all was silent, though light filtered around the edges of the curtains and the clock on the bedside table told her it was morning.

When the throbbing in her head sufficiently subsided, she crawled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. What she saw in the mirror wasn't pretty. No, she reckoned she'd been safe from Jake last night. He was far too fastidious to have touched anyone looking this bad.

Mascara smudged halfway down her cheeks. Her multicolored hair stuck up in all directions. She splashed water on her face, scrubbed the makeup off with a tissue, then found a new toothbrush and brushed her teeth. That was the best she could do.

She opened the bathroom door to find that her room had been invaded. Jake sat on the edge of the bed, wearing black drawstring trousers and nothing else. Stubble shadowed his cheeks, but otherwise, he appeared vital and alert. And half-naked. Heat pooled in her belly. 

She ignored the sensation and stepped into the room. She must have done enough now to prove to him that she wasn't girlfriend, or God forbid, wife, material.

Besides, the scent of coffee drifted across from the steaming mug on the bedside table. She needed that coffee.

A slight smile curved his lips as he saw her.

She pointed at her head. "Just got out of bed hair," she mumbled.

"I like it." He studied her. "You have a headache?"

She nodded, then winced.

"Serves you right."

She ignored his comment. "It's fading." She waved toward the bottle of pills. "Thank you."

"It's nothing."

"And thank you for looking after me." She chewed on her lip. "I didn't throw up on you, did I?"

His lips quirked. "No."

"Good." She picked up the coffee, breathed in deeply, and then took a sip. Wonderful. "You know, contrary to recent appearances, I don't often drink."

"I know." He scrutinized her again so her toes curled into the soft carpet. "Sit down." He patted the bed beside him.

"Why? What are you going to do?"

"Make your headache go away. Relax. Trust me."

She placed the mug on the table and sank down beside him. She wasn't sure this was a good idea, but she did trust him, and she didn't want to stand any longer.

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her slightly so her back was to him, then he slid his fingers into the tangle of her hair and massaged her scalp. It felt so good the breath oozed out of her lungs on a huge sigh.

"Tell me," Jake said. "Did you get drunk last night to stop me from seducing you?"

"Yes." Kim felt rather than heard the rumble of his laughter. "Well, it was you who taught me to use the weapons I had at hand. And it did work."

He kneaded the back of her skull with his strong fingers. "It nearly didn't. Have you ever tried to get a semiconscious woman out of a pair of tight leather pants? It was touch and go for a while there. I was hard all night."

"Oh." She thought for a moment. "But, Jake, I'm so not your type. I dress wrong. I behave wrong. I get drunk and act silly." She knew she sounded desperate when he chuckled again.

"Sweetheart, you'll always be my type, whatever you wear, whatever you do."

"Oh."

He leaned closer and his warmth radiated over her. He stopped his massage and stroked her hair, looping it behind her ear, and then the whisper of his breath shivered over her skin. "I watched you talking last night, and all I could think of was your mouth around my dick."

"Oh."

"Don't worry. I'd reciprocate-I want to taste you, kiss you, everywhere."

This was so not fair. His words were having a disastrous effect of her; she was suddenly super-conscious of her sex, hot and heavy and wanting. And he was only talking about it.

He shifted slightly, and she felt his mouth caress her ear, his teeth graze her lobe, then the tip of his tongue delve inside, and she almost swooned. He murmured again in that low, husky whisper that sent a tingle through her. "I watched your ass wiggling in those tight pants, and I wanted to bend you over the nearest convenient object, strip them off, and fuck you from behind."